Dodge City

Dodge Landesman

Dodge Landesman, Democratic candidate for City Council in the Second District, got his start in public speaking on the VH1 reality show “Ice-T’s Rap School,” as an eighth grader at York Prep, on the Upper West Side. “We had to open for Public Enemy, and it was the most daunting experience of my life,” he said the other day, sitting in his living room on East Twenty-second Street, before a barbecue fund-raiser, on the roof. “There were all these angry, drunk, stoned people there, and I remember thinking to myself before I went onstage, If I can handle this, I can handle anything. I had to freestyle. Right now I may freestyle a speech, but at least I don’t have to rhyme the speech or keep on the beat, which back then was tough for me.”

Landesman, or Dodge City, as he was known on the show, is now in eleventh grade, and, if elected, he will be, at nineteen, the youngest City Council member in history. He has red hair and a baby face, but he is in some ways an old soul. Behind him on the wall was a poster of Dwight Eisenhower, his favorite President. “Way back in ‘Rap School,’ that was a huge dominating force of mine,” he said, referring to the nineteen-fifties. “It died down a little bit as I grew older, but it’s still an era that I reflect upon. To me, it’s an era of peace and progress, and that’s a big part of my campaign.” Landesman was dressed in a khaki suit and wore a narrow blue necktie. He had a nick on his chin, from shaving. As he spoke, he accentuated his points with his thumb and index finger pressed together, like a natural politician, and frequently paused to compliment his guest for asking a good question. This, it emerged, was not his first campaign; last year, as a sophomore, he ran for student-council president on a platform of vending machines and dress-down days, and lost. “I was running against an eleventh grader, a pretty popular eleventh grader,” he said. “You know, Richard Nixon—not that Richard Nixon’s my political idol, but he did lose his first class election, and I think he was in tenth grade as well, so I always point to that. I say, ‘No big deal.’ ”

The donors were about to arrive. Up on the roof, Landesman, noticing a smudge on his brown-and-white saddle shoes, licked his fingers and bent over to apply a manual shine. Rocco Landesman, Dodge’s dad and the owner of Jujamcyn Theatres, talked with a Tony Awards voter while Jonathan Reynolds, a former Times Magazine food columnist and Dodge’s stepdad, grilled hamburgers. The Landesman family connections—soon to be extended, with Rocco’s recent nomination to chair the National Endowment for the Arts—have helped Dodge score a donation from the restaurateur Danny Meyer and an appearance by Julianne Moore at a fund-raising event. But matching-fund rules require that he receive donations from at least seventy-five voters in his district (Kips Bay, Gramercy, Lower East Side), and so Dodge had recently embarked on his first handshake tour, knocking on all the doors in his apartment building and inviting neighbors to the barbecue.

Soon it was freestyle time. After a brief introduction by Brent O’Leary, candidate for the Twenty-sixth District, in Queens, Landesman played to his natural strengths, portraying himself as an education candidate, advocating greater school choice and increased parental involvement. “It’s about bringing fresh, progressive new ideas to the table,” he said. “It’s about getting young people involved.” A group of teens from York Prep looked on proudly. When asked about the budget crunch, Landesman didn’t flinch. “I would say, why don’t, for now, we temporarily put a hold on building the Second Avenue subway?” he said.

Lloyd Cole, from apartment 13-M, stood with Sandra Ribicic, from 8-P, and Gil Horowitz, a member of seven Democratic clubs in lower Manhattan, who is serving as a joint campaign-and-college adviser. Horowitz pointed out that he is exactly four times Landesman’s age. “Can I use the expression ‘Who roped him into this?’ ” Cole asked.

“He’s a self-starter,” Horowitz said. “He’s been following local politics as a hobby since he was a youngster.”

“He’s impressive and he’s funny,” Ribicic said. “He should go into P.R.” Ribicic was especially grateful for the roof access, which afforded a view of Gramercy Park.

The York Prep contingent, meanwhile, complained about the cost of this year’s prom ($135), which was to be held the following night. (Landesman skipped it, citing various meetings: “Unfortunately, I’ve had to sacrifice a very significant chunk of my social calendar, if you will.”) None of them were old enough to vote, but they had a healthy respect for the corruption inherent in the political process. Landesman’s best friend, known to VH1 viewers as Money Man Sam, is running for student-council president this year. (“His campaign’s not quite as important as Dodge’s campaign,” another friend said.) “My opponent has resorted to bribing little children with sweets and doughnuts,” Sam said. “I said, ‘You know what, I’m going to take the high road. I’m going to treat these kids like adults.’ ” ♦

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